


By Any Other Name

by SocialMoth



Series: Meet-cute 'verse [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Childbirth, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Infertility, One Shot, Surprise pregnancy, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Keith (Voltron), Unplanned Pregnancy, Whump, gender weirdness including parental roles, labor, mentions of past abuse/trauma, mentions of transphobia and homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-16 08:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18517831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialMoth/pseuds/SocialMoth
Summary: Even before he came out, Keith never believed the complete timeline of 1) meet the love of your life, 2) get married, 3) have his baby, wouldeverhappen to him.--This work is my intellectual property. I do not give you or anyone else permission to offer my works for download.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> July 2018
> 
> This happened to a friend of mine, and writing fanfic is how I process things. As such, I hold no delusions that anything here is accurate.
> 
> #shook
> 
> ETA: A quick but important note -- at the end of this fic, Keith elects to be "Mom" for the bab, at least for now. None of this is reflective of how I think families/parenthood "ought" to be; and while I'd like to Rowling it as Keith just gave birth and he's loopy from exhaustion, he'll change his mind in the morning, that isn't good enough, and this will be addressed in a timestamp, when I get around to writing it. Y'all out here giving me ideas, stop it. XD (JK KEEP GOING)
> 
> Thank you to to everyone who's given me feedback so far. Your constructive input makes me a better ~~Paladin~~ writer.

Keith's brow pinched and he curled up tightly in his sleep, almost right out of Lance's firm grasp around his shoulders. The latter shifted closer to wakefulness, his relaxed chest and stomach reading the tense lines of Keith's back and waist. Beads of sweat crawled from his hairline.

Bad dreams again, Lance concluded, kissing his sleeping lover's nape. They seemed to come in cycles, replacing the bleeding Keith could have had every few weeks instead, had he not taken testosterone consistently for the past three years. Instead of monthly hemorrhaging, Keith had to deal with nightmares, reliving childhood abuse and transition-era trauma that he still couldn't talk about with Lance after a year together, not even after cementing their relationship in gold initials around their necks. When he had these bad nights, Lance could only pull him closer, soothe him with Spanish endearments and tighten his arms around Keith's flailing limbs so he wouldn't hurt himself.

When morning arrived, Keith would take in the shadows in Lance's usually pristine complexion and bite his lip in guilt that he'd robbed the one he loved most of yet another night's restful sleep. He'd told Lance that he could exile Keith to the couch when he was like this, but Lance wouldn't hear it. A shake of the head, a solemn kiss on the cheek, and a soft promise that he could never let his _corazon_ suffer alone if he had anything to say about it.

Today was no different. Lance tenderly stroked Keith's sweat-damp hair back from his face, kissing his flushed temple and humming a barely-remembered love song from his home country. Keith's jaw twisted in pain and he huffed as he shifted onto his back, hand clenched over his stomach.

Tummyache, Lance mentally amended, his long fingers closing over Keith's fist, thumb stroking the white knuckles. They'd gone out to eat last night and ordered the same dish. Lance felt fine; Keith had asked for dairy-free. Someone hadn't listened.

"Babe," Lance murmured, brushing Keith's fringe off his forehead, "you awake?"

"Nngh," came Keith's reply, eyelids twitching as Lance's voice coaxed him out of slumber. "Fuck _everything_ ," he rasped as his eyes opened to fix on the ceiling with shrunken pupils, consciousness only increasing the tight feeling in his belly.

"I'm sorry, kitten," Lance cooed emphatically, gently massaging Keith's stomach with the flat of his hand. The clockwise strokes definitely budged against something under the tense skin, but the way Keith's eyes squeezed even more tightly shut gave him pause about applying any more pressure than that. "I'll leave that restaurant a shitty Yelp review as soon as we get you feeling better." Unfortunately for Keith, and by extension Lance, this wasn't the first time an establishment had blatantly ignored Keith's request to nix the cheese, milk, what-have-you. Usually, though, Keith could tell when something had snuck in, and he hadn't said anything at all about it during dinner. Not even a suspecting frown.

"Don't bother," Keith sighed as Lance's continued ministrations seemed to finally ease some of the tension in his abs, "That's not what this feels like."

Lance did frown now. "What _does_ it feel like?" he chanced, mentally flipping through the options. He lifted his hand away as Keith's palms roved over his bloated belly, cupping between his hips.

"Honestly, I think it feels like cramps," he said tremulously, mortified tears studding his lashline.

"Keith," Lance pressed, "You haven't had a period in the entire time since I met you."

" _Ugh_ , I know," Keith whimpered, curling over another wave of pain with gritted teeth. Fingers of one hand playing in Keith's hair, Lance pushed up on his other arm and craned his head to look down their entwined bodies.

"Well, I don't think you're bleeding profusely yet. Can you stand to get to the bathroom?"

"Hm," Keith's eyes fell closed again.

"Please don't make me carry you."

"Bitch, you might have to."

Lance rolled his eyes. But Keith really did seem unable to straighten out, much less stand up, so he swung his legs over the other side of the mattress and walked around the bed to Keith's side. He tucked his arms under Keith's knees and upper back, and Keith was at least able to assist by wrapping his arms around Lance's neck. He whined at the change in gravity and Lance kissed his hair in apology, cradling him close to his chest as he gently carried him to the bathroom.

Lance observed correctly that Keith wasn't bleeding profusely. What he hadn't guessed was that Keith didn't seem to be bleeding at all. He held his boyfriend upright while he pressed a wad of tissue between his trembling legs for several long seconds at a time, hesitating to dig up inside to coax _some_ blood out, anything to justify what felt like a dozen knives in his back and belly.

"Maybe it's just slow to start," Lance thought aloud, to assuage his own fears as well as reassure his lover. "It's been a few years, right? Maybe your body kind of… forgot how to do this?"

"M-maybe," Keith stammered, turning the tissue in the light before discarding it in the bowl. Lance wordlessly handed him one of the pads they kept under the sink for Pidge and Shay and other menstruating guests, and pretended not to hear the sniffles Keith tried to hide under the noise of unwrapping it and affixing it to his boxer-briefs.

"Can I get you anything? Tea? Heat pad?"

"Heat pad," Keith agreed, hitching his underwear and pajama bottoms up his hips as he staggered to his feet. He hissed as he straightened, fingers digging now into his sacrum. " _Fuck_ , I forgot how much this shit hurts," he growled, letting Lance support him as he hobbled to the sink to wash his hands.

Lance wanted to offer more than sympathy and kisses, but he had to be content with pressing his lips to Keith's temple again anyway. "I'm so sorry, baby. If you want, I can take the day off to look after you…"

Keith scoffed even though his brow pinched again, throat convulsing as he swallowed a sudden wave of nausea. "I'm not _dying_ ," he said, "Just cramping." He patted his hands dry on the towel hanging by the mirror and turned around to sag against the counter, palms curling around Lance's svelte waist. He'd wanted their usual morning sex before Lance left, but he supposed now that was out of the question. As if he sensed Keith's remorse, Lance gently wrapped Keith into a hug, hands in his hair and massaging his scalp. Keith had once mentioned he used to get awful headaches during his periods. "Go to work," Keith reiterated, "I'll take some ibuprofen and I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Lance hummed into his shoulder, nuzzling along the cap of muscle. Despite the vise-like pressure in his belly, Keith shivered with desire against the soft touch. Keith traced his fingertips up Lance's spine, nails pressing mildly into the sensitive places he'd ended up scratching raw the night before.

"I'm sure you should go to work," Keith insisted, closing his lips on Lance's collarbone but unable to find it in him to take a playful nip. Lance leaned away, searching his face. Keith looked exhausted in this light, cheeks even a bit gaunt despite the weight he'd managed to put on since moving in with Lance. God only knew where those ten or so pounds went, because it wasn't his face or his ribs or his wrists.

Lance's frown deepened. Keith's over-bright eyes betrayed how much agony his seizing uterus caused him, no matter how strong a front he held. "Promise me you'll rest?" he asked softly, rubbing his thumbs over Keith's shoulders. Keith rolled his eyes.

"I'm not made of glass just because I'm having a period," he groused.

"Let me worry about you, okay?" Lance placated, kissing his clammy forehead. "You feel like you're running a fever, too."

"Cos my body's _freaking_ _out_ ," Keith dismissed, ducking his head and pressing his fingers into his belly again with a grimace. "Lance, go to work. I'll probably sleep most of the day, anyway."

Somehow Lance doubted anyone could fall asleep with enough pain to make anyone else double up and scream. Keith had a high pain tolerance, sure, but the poor thing actually looked about to _cry_. "I'll have Hunk come over and check on you during his lunch break, alright?"

" _Lance_."

"Humor me," he said with finality, satisfied that Keith at least let him guide him out of the bathroom to the couch. "You know I'd do it myself anyway, if it wouldn't take me an hour to get here during lunch traffic."

"...Fine." Keith settled heavily against the arm of the couch, palm guarding his abdomen as he sought a comfortable position. Nothing really seemed to fit the ticket, but at last he ended up on his side with his knees drawn up despite having the entire length of the couch to work with, and that would have to do for now. Lance frowned down at him curled up on the couch like a sulking child, arms across his chest as he debated whether he should take the day off after all. But Keith fixed him with those raw amethyst eyes before he could even say anything and he dipped his chin.

"Just remember you can call me if it gets really bad, or if you want me to pick anything up from the store on my way home."

Frustrated, Keith waved him off. Normally he let Lance mother-hen him all he wanted, but today was simply not the day for it. His stomach pained him beyond wanting taken care of into simply wanting death. Not that he would say that out loud to Lance of all people. He put on a tougher face through breakfast delivered onto the coffee table, which he barely picked at, and bolstered his voice enough to wish his lover a good day at work as he walked out the door. After that he gave himself free pass to wallow in misery, alternating between an over-drugged haze and spiking pain through his back, abdomen, and hips, that a heat pad only filed the very edge off of.

True to Lance's word, Hunk knocked on the door and let himself in with his spare key around lunchtime, a to-go bowl of phở in hand that he placed on the coffee table aligned with Keith's head. He craned his neck up to smell it a little better, retched at the thought of eating it, and then dropped his head back onto the throw pillow. Seemingly unperturbed, Hunk happily chattered about the goings-on at his workplace, recent developments in his relationship with Shay ("I wanted to propose to her the other night, but then you two finally decided you wanna get hitched and there's no way I could stand up against that while you don't even have a date yet,"), and whatever else came to mind. If Keith's total absence of conversation bothered him, he didn't mention it, although Keith didn't miss how he lingered over text messages a little more somberly than if they had been from his girlfriend or a coworker.

"I gotta get going," Hunk said regretfully as he stood to leave. The phở in front of Keith still steamed mildly. He'd managed to sit halfway up and take a cautious sip of the broth, but his stomach lurched at his attempts to swallow anything, so he'd left it virtually untouched overall. "You know I'm working basically down the street if you need something, right?"

"I'm fine, Hunk. One mom-friend is enough and I'm already engaged to him," Keith said with a wan smile, although he couldn't muster the humor it needed. Hunk's parting laugh sounded forced, and Keith couldn't blame him. Still, he kept a false grin plastered on his face until he heard Hunk's key turn in the lock, and then he writhed onto his back, knees drawn up as the strongest cramp yet squeezed his abdomen. "Jesus _fuck_ ," he rasped, lips curled into a full-on snarl at the height of the pain. He felt like he might throw up. He already had soon after Lance left, although he hadn't told Hunk about that. Lance would have taken him to the ER for sure if he heard that, and neither of them could exactly afford that right now.

Keith had gotten his appendix removed when he was sixteen. The pain was too low to be kidney stones. He still hadn't bled at all. Peritonitis, maybe? Perhaps it was food poisoning, after all. A lifelong diet of questionable free lunches and foster home meals followed by all manner of fast food in adulthood meant Keith liked to think he had a cast iron stomach out of all people. Food never made him sick unless it had dairy. This wasn't like he'd eaten dairy. None of his hobbling trips to the bathroom had been productive in that regard. But god, the _pressure…_ He rubbed his belly as firmly as he could stand, feeling something undeniably solid under his hands but nothing he could manage to shift. A pall of fear made him break out in a cold sweat. It felt _huge_ to him; too big to just… eliminate on his own. He might have rolled his eyes if a panicked vision of his bowels tearing open with one wrong move didn't snap him out of any sarcastic response. He never let Lance say "I told you so," but he might have had a point about eating more vegetables…

But if that was all it was, he decided, then the tactic from here was simple: hydrate, make some ginger tea, tell Lance to get sugar-free candy from the gas station on the way home and please don't ask questions.

Groaning but determined, Keith rolled over until his feet hit the floor and he pushed himself up, taking a moment before standing to let his nausea die back down. He felt even heavier than he did this morning, despite having consumed nothing but pain pills and the meager water to swallow them. Exhaustion, he figured, from trying and failing spectacularly to manage the pain himself. Perhaps he should have made Lance stay home after all, as even getting to his feet took serious mental planning and fortitude. Mentally he mapped all the places he could lean as he precariously wobbled toward the kitchen, where he could sit on counters while cutting the ginger and boiling water.

Nearly doubled up over the sink, Keith filled the kettle halfway and placed it on the burner, turning the heat up to medium before he dug the ginger root out of the produce basket. Lance had fixed this for him several times before since moving in together, with probably half an inch or so. After peeling the bark and surveying what was left, Keith felt like he needed more than that, surely it couldn't hurt anything.

The water began to steam. Keith cut off another half-inch and pared away the bark, flicking the pieces into the sink. A sudden cramp ripped across his abdomen and his knees buckled, elbows slamming the counter hard enough to go numb as he just managed to catch himself. "Fuck!" he shrieked loud enough for his voice to echo, scowling at the blood dripping on the cutting board from slicing his thumb open. He seethed through the rest of the cramp, legs shaking when it finally released him and let the pain in his elbows and thumb move to the front. "Fuck you, too," Keith hissed at nothing in particular – the whole shitty situation, really – and wrapped a paper towel around the cut while he finished dicing the ginger. He managed to get it in the boiling water without further incident and immediately sagged onto the nearest chair, injured hand cradling his sore belly and legs wide to try to shift the pain out of his hips. Groaning miserably, Keith rested his head in his other hand, fingers over his eyes and leaning on his elbow. Honestly, ginger tea sounded like a good idea in theory, but now that the smell permeated the kitchen it was the last thing he wanted to try to put in his mouth. His throat seemed to close up at the very thought.

He lost track of how long he sat there with enforced darkness, but the sound of the door opening and slamming shut jerked him out of his uncomfortable stupor, and when he blinked the colored patches away Lance stood at the kitchen pass-through, concern in every line of his face.

"Is it five already?" Keith croaked, straightening as much as he could.

"Hunk called me," Lance trembled, "Said you didn't look good."

Keith snarled, almost gnashed his teeth as he slammed his palm on the table. "For crying out loud, Lance--"

" _Dude_ ," Lance insisted, brow furling, "Take a look at yourself. You need a hospital."

"No."

Lance pushed a hand in his hair, eyes closed and nostrils flaring. Keith hated hospitals, especially after transitioning; and most especially Texan hospitals after transitioning. And Lance knew that, but he loved Keith so much he often forgot that other people insisted Keith's identity was wrong and would blame his "immoral lifestyle" for the pain, rather than acknowledge and treat the fact he was in pain at all. "Okay. No hospital now. What else have you tried?"

Now it was Keith's turn to comb his hair back, fingers white-knuckling in the longer strands. "Just the pain meds and hot pad."

Sighing – those were the strongest options they had in a household unaccustomed to period management – Lance cast his gaze around the walls and cabinets as if he could find the answer there. "Did you try a salt bath yet?"

"Those _never_ helped."

"Can you try for me?" Lance pleaded, puppy-dog eyes fully deployed. Unable to say 'no' under the best circumstances to that face, Keith stood no chance today and so he leaned against the back of his chair in defeat, nodding curtly. "Good. I'll start running the water now, and then I'll help you with the ginger tea when I come back."

"I've got it," Keith said, covering his injured thumb and the now scarlet paper towel wrapped around it with his other hand.

"Uh huh," Lance intoned indulgently, and then he slipped out of sight toward the bathroom. In seconds Keith heard the roar of water running into the tub, and took advantage of the noise cover to moan into his fist as the vise around his navel had tightened enormously over the last minute. It left him breathless at the end, sweat beading under his fringe as he gasped in relief. Trembling from exertion, Keith hauled himself to his feet and turned off the burner, pouring the ginger-scented water through the strainer over his favorite black-cat mug and letting the spicy steam wash over his face. He liked to think that his stomach settled just from that, and maybe it was only a coincidental lull in the discomfort after all; but for the first time since the morning he felt at ease.

Something warm pooled between his legs. Before he realized it wasn't menstruation finally starting, Keith's socks were completely soaked and he looked down in horror at the yellow-tinged liquid trickling down his inner thighs onto the white laminate floor. Keith couldn't recall making a sound but Lance came running at a memory of his distressed cry and stood slack-jawed in the entryway, out of breath but remarkably composed once he took in the scene.

"Dude," Lance couldn't help a nervous chuckle, "Did you seriously just pee yourself?"

"I...I—!"

One look at Keith's mortified face – so dark with shame he looked nearly purple – and Lance jumped track from humor to sympathy, stepping unperturbed into the kitchen to take Keith's clenching hands in his own. "Oh, _amorcito_ , I'm sorry I laughed. It's okay. The bath's almost full. Go get in, and I'll clean this up, okay?" He held Keith's burning face between his hands and kissed his flushed forehead. "I'll bring your tea when I'm done. It's really okay, babe." He kissed Keith's cheek one last time as he walked past him to the utility closet for the mop, and in a daze Keith staggered toward the bathroom, hot tears running down his face in his abject humiliation.

The pad he'd put on that morning was sopping wet with that same yellowy fluid, although the white fabric also showed (fucking _finally_ ) streaks of blood. He didn't feel like he had to pee, but he hadn't felt like he needed to pee before that _incident,_ either… maybe the pain between his hips had crowded out all other sensations and when he finally started bleeding, he'd happened to void his bladder at the same moment? It made no sense, but then, _nothing_ about this day really did.

Taking another slow breath to steady his heartbeat, try to quell his embarrassment, Keith kicked his pants and underwear off along with his socks, pulling his shirt off before sinking into the hot steaming water. Lance had used lavender oil in addition to the bath salts, and the gentle scent eased his frayed nerves somewhat even if the ache in his belly felt tighter than ever. Wincing as he leaned back against the tub wall, Keith ghosted his palms over the hard plane of his stomach, lingering over the slight bulge lower on his torso. Was this where all the weight had gone? Had it been slowly building up over the past year, sitting in his gut all this time? Why hadn't his body gotten rid of it on its own? Keith realized if neither this nor the ginger tea worked, he'd still have to ask Lance to get sugar-free candy from somewhere, and after wetting himself as a grown-ass adult right in front of him, Keith felt more like he needed to call off their engagement before he would purposefully ask Lance for something to make him take the largest shit of his life.

Later, he tried to tell himself with a deep breath to focus. That could be later. That would be the last resort. Right now he needed to… needed to--

"Oh, _jeezus!_ " he roared, white-knuckling the tub rim as he pitched over his lap, legs splaying to the tub walls as agony gripped him sternum to pelvis and _pulled_ him forward with a shrieking growl.

"Keith?" he heard Lance call from down the hall. The door opened to Lance's ashen face seconds later, mop still in hand which he quickly leaned aside on the bathroom counter before crashing to his knees at Keith's head. "Baby, what happened? You scared me!"

Throwing his head back, Keith clutched his belly with one hand while blindly groping for Lance with the other. "I don't… I'm fine. That just… _oh_ _**god**_." He sucked in air through his bared teeth, nose scrunched as he fought down the urge to yell. Lance gripped the pale fingers in his dark hands and kissed each fingertip while Keith struggled, jaw clenching on the whimpers starting in his throat but unable to hold back the pearly tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Is it still just your stomach?" Lance asked timidly, eyes glassy as it dawned on him this might go beyond his ability to help. Drawing a knee up, Keith gripped the washcloth bar with his other hand as he heaved himself back against the tub wall, panting heavily. His hand roved over his stomach again, falling water droplets mapping the tiny curve risen between his ribs and his pelvis. "Did you ever start bleeding?" Keith's eyes flickered to his discarded pants, but for all the effort his uterus had put toward forcing something out, the water between his legs remained spectacularly clear. "I don't get it. I mean, I guess you look a little swollen now that I see you without your shirt on, but I don't know if that's cos I know your tummy hurts, or…"

A fat tear dripped off Keith's nose. "It hurts so _much_ , Lance," he whined, unable to meet his eyes from some ill-held wound to his pride. "I… Like it's trying to rip itself apart. Lance, I think something's actually _wrong_ with me."

If Lance hadn't been so worried all day already, he would have seen the irony in all of the tension leaving his body at those words. Keith had admitted he wasn't strong enough to deal with this pain on his own; he was giving ground. Maybe Lance could convince him to go to the ER now.

Keeping a brave face – for certainly if _Keith_ was in enough pain to admit something was wrong, then something had to be _very wrong_ – Lance kissed his temple long and firm, trying to give Keith some of his courage back. "Okay; hang in there while I get some clothes. I'm taking you to the hospital." He kissed Keith's sweat-dampened hair again and as if truly admitting defeat, Keith slumped against the tub wall, appearing to sink into a dead faint of exhaustion except his eyes remained open and far too bright. He said something that Lance nearly lost in the sounds of the water sloshing around him and the rough scrape of his head sinking down, but it drove Lance to move quicker than he ever had, faster than he knew he could.

 _"Hurry_. _"_

Keith closed his eyes after Lance left, trying to find something resembling calm even as his heart raced shrilly in his chest. Flying into hysterics wouldn't help him here, he needed to focus. He'd been having abdominal pains since the morning, and they'd grown progressively worse through the course of the day. Also nauseated, but he'd only thrown up once. He'd barely eaten anything all day, but he hadn't eliminated anything either. Hydration minimal. Last menstrual period approximately three years ago prior to beginning testosterone, but he would omit that part, if he could.

"Oh, god," he moaned low and long as all the muscles in his abdomen seized again, curling over his clenching thighs. He hoped Lance would hurry. He hoped they could get him to the ER in time. He hoped he wasn't dying…

"Keith, you still with me?" Lance's face drifted into view, some of his color back after rushing around to gather everything. Keith reached for his hand automatically, pale fingers clenching hard enough to make his bones pop. "You're doing really, really good, baby. D'you think you can stand?" As he spoke he straightened, guiding Keith's arm and by extension his body upwards. Death-gripping the washcloth bar again, Keith crawled forward into a squat. The air punched out of him in a strained gurgle as something heavy-feeling shifted lower in his hips. "Keith?" Lance checked, voice pitching as Keith suddenly blanched, limbs quaking.

"I… toilet," he whined, the descending weight only increasing the pressure and pain between his legs, nausea roiling in his throat.

"I need you to help me get you up, babe, unless you're planning to take a shit right there…" Lance's voice trailed off as he realized Keith was beyond caring about hygiene or dignity, face purpling as he bore down on whatever had blocked up his pelvis, white-knuckling Lance's hand and the bar in equal measure. He groaned as he neared breaking point, face blotchy when he stopped to take in air.

"Lance," he huffed after the next effort, sweat breaking over his nape, and he spread his knees wider, "This doesn't feel right," he whimpered, distressed. Soothing his hand over his twitching back, Lance coaxed him out of the squat to a stooped-over posture, but standing at last.

"Cos you're in the wrong place for it-- stay with me," he stammered as Keith's legs buckled, just managing to catch him around his shoulders before he bashed his knees on the tub rim, "Do I need to carry you?" Done with keeping a stoic face, Keith wailed as the worst of the pains yet slammed into him, digging into every fiber of his body with white-hot agony, cramming everything downward, like his body was trying to force him inside-out. His fingers clutched in Lance's shirt, wetting the fabric as he leaned hard against him. "Okay, carrying you; but you can still walk to the toilet, right?" But then Keith was shaking his head, mumbling something he couldn't catch, something about the pressure, _the pressure_ , splitting him apart, the burning _ache_ between his legs...

 _Wait a second…_ _**No way.**_

Swallowing hard, Lance pulled Keith into a firm bear hug, restricting his arms enough that in his frantic mental state, Keith merely let himself fall still. He carded his hands through Keith's damp hair, staring straight ahead at the backsplash of the tub, listening to Keith's ragged gasping and the small trickling sounds of the water draining slowly past the seal.

 _No way._ Keith's hormones inhibited all of that. They always used a condom anyway. It'd be horrendously bad luck or a quiznakking miracle and oh god, it might even be both.

"Keith…" Lance rasped, and something in the gravity of his tone made Keith hold his breath – something he shouldn't be doing if Lance turned out to be right. Lance stroked Keith's hair again, hitching him up so Keith's chin rested on his shoulder. His other hand slipped down Keith's back, fingers hooking around his hip. "Babe, I need you to listen, cos I'm serious right now; what if you're pregnant?"

Keith stiffened, and not from pain. The instant rage boiled off of him and Lance might have found himself thrown across the room if Keith wasn't in debilitating pain right at that instant. "Fuck you!" he growled, chin digging painfully into the soft tissue at the base of Lance's neck.

Well, Lance should have expected that. Unwanted pregnancy was one of the first concerns Lance brought up when they got serious and Keith came out to him; and maybe it had been the way he asked, or something in Keith's past, but the idea of pregnancy had always been a flashpoint subject for Keith, and so they had never spoken about it, especially since Keith's fertility tests - for the sake of _knowing_ , Lance had said - came back depressingly low even for someone as averse to conceiving as him. "I deserved that," he agreed, kissing Keith's temple in apology as the poor boy groaned through another cramp (or contraction...). "Did it never even cross your mind all day?"

Keith's nails dug through the fabric of his shirt, body trembling against his chest. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up," he hiccuped, heart hammering. Lance couldn't blame him for dodging the question.

"C'mere," he coaxed, turning them and sitting Keith on the toilet, dragging the wastebasket over just in case. He smoothed his hands over Keith's legs, trying to bring warmth back to his quivering thighs and goose-skinned calves. "Talk to me. What's going on? Can you walk, or do you need to stay here for a minute?"

Keith leaned his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Mouth tight, jaw clenched. "I don't know," he whimpered, fisting his hair, "I thought it was just cramps but there's no blood and I just… Lance, I feel like something's really _wrong_."

"Hey, breathe. Breathe," Lance crooned, resting his forehead against Keith's. "I've gotcha. Anything happening?" he checked, fingers splaying toward Keith's tightened stomach. "Gotta… gotta go, or anything?"

"I don't know," Keith repeated helplessly, tears dropping onto Lance's sleeves, arms curling around his belly as he leaned forward. His breath hitched and his body grew rigid. "Holy shit."

Lance stilled, adrenaline spiking. He waited for Keith to say something else. All that happened was Keith death-gripping his shoulders, leaning forward off the toilet into a squat again and bracing himself on Lance, grunting with exertion as he bore down again. It lasted several minutes, long enough that Lance found himself astounded that Keith didn't pass out. And by the end of it, when Keith's breath came in high-pitched gasps and he started to wilt, Lance had just the right angle, that as he cast a wary eye down the line of Keith's rippling abdominals he saw something round and distinctly skin-colored bulging out from between his legs. " _Holy shit,_ " he whispered, too incredulous to decide if he was happy to be right or not, but he held Keith upright more determinedly, and sat down on his heels so Keith could sag against him when he grew too tired.

"What's happening? Lance!" Keith demanded, and Lance was close enough to see how tightly his pupils contracted from pain and fear. Lance thought he might cry; he hid his face in Keith's neck.

"You'll never believe me – Keith, _you're_ _in labor_."

Keith's only response was that gentle rocking against him, that he'd started minutes ago but Lance hadn't noticed until this dead silence between them.

" _What_?"

Lance snorted, nerves unfurling in time with his arms folding over Keith's back. "Keith, either you're prolapsing, or I just saw a baby's head."

"B-baby...'s," Keith stammered, voice breaking. Lance blinked the first tears from his eyes.

"Yeah. You're having a _baby_ , Keith. _You're_ _having_ _our_ _baby_."

"Holy shit," Keith said breathlessly, blindly reaching a hand down between his legs to feel. Lance guided his trembling fingers through the folds, cupping them over the smooth crown that had only seconds ago been nudging out of his body. "Oh my god. What color is their hair?"

"Couldn't tell; was more shook that I'm suddenly a dad," Lance teased hesitantly. Keith swatted him, and somehow that told Lance everything would be okay. "Wanna find out?" Keith nodded against his chest, readjusting himself and picking up a scrap of determination now that he knew what the hell was happening and how to go about it. "You've got this, Keith. You made it this far."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Keith grunted, but the wavering smile he briefly cast up at Lance's face said all he was too proud to admit.

"I love you," Lance said solemnly, as if he were asking Keith to marry him all over again.

Keith hooked his arms around Lance's neck, taking a needed breather between contractions – now that he _knew_ these horrendous pains were contractions. Looked into Lance's eyes. Those gorgeous ocean-blue eyes that swept him off his feet at one glance, and he had never looked back. He hoped the baby ( _baby, baby,_ _ **their**_ _baby, oh god_ _ **their**_ _**baby**_ ) had Lance's eyes. "Yeah," he sighed, kissing Lance's mouth and breathing him in. How did he end up here? How did he manage to stumble into this beautiful boy's life, and how did he ever get lucky enough to conceive and carry his child? He pulled away as the next contraction hit. "A little less right now for doing this to me," he grimaced, "But I probably should have noticed something."

"Like what?" Lance responded easily, falling into the banter to help distract him, "I don't know if you noticed, but you look the furthest from pregnant I've ever seen. If I didn't already see the head I'd think the baby would be Stuart Little-sized."

"How did the mom end up giving birth to a rat, anyway?" Keith grumbled, "Nothing about that book makes sense."

Lance barked a laugh. "I think Stu was a mouse. I hope the kid doesn't have your sense of imagination."

"Imagination, what? Rats can't drive, or teach elementary school, or ride motorcycles."

"You're mixing up with 'Runaway Ralph,' now. And _both_ of them were mice." Lance said lightly. Keith smacked him a little harder for that.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm fucking _giving birth_ right now. I don't give a fuck about what varmint drove what."

"So the first book we read to them will not be 'If You Give a Mouse a Cookie'?"

Keith's groan in response could have been annoyance as easily as another contraction – until his scream at the end. Dropping his cheek, Lance quietly coached Keith through it, smoothing his warm hands down Keith's clenching sides and back at the release as if such ministrations could help him deliver. But it seemed to help Keith stay calm and ground himself again, so Lance kept on doing it whenever he had a blessed respite between contractions. He grabbed tissues and wiped Keith's face of sweat and tears, kissed him when he hiccuped and sobbed miserably; and he always, always, always told Keith he was doing so well, Lance was so proud of him, he was so eager to meet their baby.

"It feels like it's taking forever," Keith complained after several more contractions, forehead dropping onto Lance's shoulder. Lance chanced a peek down and saw that really, there hadn't been any progress either. "My knees hurt."

"Wanna move back into the tub?" he asked quietly, stroking Keith's convulsing back. "It'll give you a little break, and the water might help." His niece had been a water birth, and his sister-in-law apparently found it relaxing, as if anyone could possibly relax during labor.

"...Get in with me?" Keith asked timidly, already shying away as he anticipated Lance's rejection. But Lance pulled him back in tighter, kissing his face.

"Of course, baby. Anything you want." Keith's body stiffened against him and Keith moaned on the cusp of tears. "Right after this contraction, we'll move, okay?"

"Yeah," Keith gritted out, shoving his forehead harder against Lance's chest as he threw his entire body into the push, voice straining in his throat up to an alarming shriek at the end that left him coughing and choking on an abrupt wave of bile. "I'm so sorry--" he rasped in mortification but Lance was already pulling him to his feet.

"It's okay, Keith, just focus on getting this baby out, alright? Here." He made sure Keith was settled as comfortably as he could manage under the circumstances before he wrenched off the vomit-doused shirt, shucking his pants in the same moment before climbing into the bath behind Keith. "Lean on me, come on," he coaxed, pulling Keith upright against his chest so he could turn his encouraging massages toward Keith's belly and his struggling womb. He could see their baby more easily from this angle, and he considered it possible that the shift in gravity had helped move it lower down the birth canal. "I think I see a little more of the head now. You're doing great. I know everyone says that in the movies and stuff, but you're doing really great."

"I feel like _shit_ ," Keith grunted, jaw clenching as he weathered another contraction. This one lasted much longer, or maybe it was Lance's imagination; what he couldn't deny was he definitely could see their baby's nose now, though their eyes remained closed.

Something like relief trying to flood through him now, Lance pressed his lips to Keith's cheek, supporting his head with his hand. "I think the head's almost out, now," he whispered in his ear, stroking Keith's damp hair. "Hard part's almost over."

"Says you, you don't have to shove this thing out."

"Our baby is not a 'thing,'" Lance gently chided, planting several more kisses over Keith's cheek and neck to comfort him. He pressed the heel of his palm down the line of Keith's stomach with the next contraction, as some pledge of solidarity although he knew Keith had to do all the work no matter how hard he wished. "I see their face."

"Oh my god," Keith wheezed hysterically, shivering harder after he managed to glance down and see it. Lance lapped water over his chest and arms, trying to keep his body warm, and held him tightly.

"Almost there, Keith," Lance crooned, "Just a few more good pushes, okay?" He took Keith's wandering hand, and like a man drowning Keith squeezed it, taking Lance's other hand to do the same.

"I'm scared, Lance," he admitted so quietly Lance would have missed it if his face wasn't right next to Keith's.

"Me too, _corazon_ ," he said, kissing Keith's clammy shoulder. "But we'll figure it out. We always do. Ready to meet our baby?"

Keith huffed in probably exhaustion, probably frustration, probably dry appreciation for Lance's persistent optimism; most likely a combination of the three. He collected his breath, waiting for the next contraction. If he possibly could, he was gonna try to get this baby the rest of the way out in one.

The now-familiar tightness gathered under his heart and squeezed downward, grinding lower and more intensely in his abdomen until it reached a crescendo in his pelvis. With a low growl he bore down, focusing all the muscles in his core into the push, arching forward off Lance's chest until he sat practically upright between his raised thighs. The longer he pushed the louder he got, full-on yelling by the time he reached the end of his strength, collapsing boneless against Lance when the contraction finally released him again.

"Shoulders," Lance whispered when Keith opened his eyes again, "I think they should pretty much fall right out, now."

"Could you…?" Keith's voice faltered, eyelashes fluttering as exhaustion sharply overtook him. His stomach clenched on another contraction but he had no energy left to work with it.

Lance reached his long arm forward, catching Keith in the crook of his other elbow when he slid off his chest. Between Keith's legs, the baby felt warm, slippery with birth fluids. Its eyes remained closed, but its hand closed around Lance's reaching finger. "C'mon, buddy," Lance pleaded, feeling Keith grow a different kind of heavy on his arm, "Papa's getting tired, it's time to come out." He managed to somewhat hook his hand under the baby's arms; he watched Keith's abdomen for any further contractions, and on the next clenching of hard muscle he gently pulled the infant away from Keith's body, hoping to god that he wouldn't hurt it.

"You need to help me out, Keith, you're still holding onto him kinda tight…"

"It's a boy?" Keith murmured, eyes closed, voice distant.

Lance laughed at his slip despite everything. "Still can't see yet. One good push on the next contraction, okay?"

Tears dropped down Keith's face. "I wanted to have him out by now."

Lance gently jostled him to keep him awake, grin helplessly manic. "Babies don't care about timing, Keith. Gimme a hand?"

Keith didn't say anything, but Lance felt the difference when his next attempt to guide their baby out felt smoother, easier. The contraction barely ended before Lance was lifting their newborn from the water onto Keith's chest, propping them both up against him before anyone could slip back under. The room went dead quiet for one excruciating moment where everything in the world fell completely still, blood rushing in their ears.

"Oh my god," Keith sobbed breathlessly when their baby's first cries echoed shrilly around the room, fat tears streaming down his face. "Oh my god, this came out of me…?"

"She's beautiful," Lance managed, beside himself with awe and amazement. "Keith-- _Keith,_ look what you _made_." He brought her little hand up to his lips, the one that had gripped his fingers before she even saw him. "Oh my god, she's _perfect_."

"She's so _tiny_ ," Keith whispered tremulously, a new surge of energy pulsing through him fiercely enough to keep him awake for his daughter's first moments. "Lance, what are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna clean her up and make sure she's okay. And we're gonna name her. And then we're gonna love her for the rest of our lives."

Keith snorted – Lance totally knew that wasn't what he was asking – but he remembered exactly why he'd said 'yes' to Lance in the first place, now.

–

Paramedics arrived thirty-two minutes after Lance placed the call, nineteen minutes after he'd helped Keith deliver the placenta. He was then somehow able to convince Keith to relinquish his hold on their daughter with an emphatic promise she wouldn't once leave his sight. Keith's fierce violet eyes watched the EMTs' every movement, reminding Lance of that panther-like intensity that had first terrified him even as it had simultaneously drawn him. It had softened over the course of their relationship; he had forgotten how sharply it cut through nerves, how unforgiving. Lance wondered if he only imagined the hyper-tentative ways in which they spoke and handled the baby.

After an overlong and tense wait on the edge of composure, their daughter – swaddled in a powder-soft blanket and still only a hair over six pounds, _just_ big enough to reassure everyone she had come into the world full-term as much as she was fully unexpected – returned to Lance's secure embrace while another paramedic finished stitching up Keith's thumb. His vital signs all looked reassuring; while the recommended course of action was of course to observe him at least overnight at the hospital, Keith demanded to recover at home where he felt safer. Lance could only shrug, offering "dyed-in-the-wool Scorpio" as an explanation, at which Keith bristled like he might actually sting him if he could.

They were left with powdered formula and a bottle, as Keith had gotten top surgery soon after meeting Lance and couldn't nurse even if he wanted to. Lance expressed distaste for the brand, asserting he would get something better in the next day or two. Keith rolled his eyes, taking the warmed bottle from Lance's disdaining hand and hitching himself a little more upright.

"Here," Lance offered, hooking his hands under Keith's arms so he didn't have to put the baby down to sit up. "How's your hand?"

"Still numb. I just gave birth, unmedicated, and you're asking about my _hand_?"

Lance shrugged, grin sheepish. "I can at least kiss your thumb better. I kinda feel like you don't want me anywhere near _there_ for a really long time…"

"You are correct," Keith commented dryly. He adjusted his hold on their daughter and offered her the bottle nipple. Her downy skin favored Keith's, and the peachfuzz on her head had the faintest tint of auburn in bright light. Lance had caught a glimpse of dark blue eyes earlier, although he knew there was time yet for them to change. Right now they were closed, little divots in her wrinkly little face. He thought their shape looked like Keith's; her little scrunched mouth resembled Lance's, down to the little cat-like turn of her lip. She wasn't taking the bottle.

"Is she asleep?" Lance asked softly when Keith made a frustrated noise.

"I think so. But she has to be hungry, right?" He gently nudged her chin with the nipple, trying to see if he could rouse her. Lance scooted closer to him on the bed and took the bottle away, keeping it warm between his hands.

"So we'll feed her when she wakes up."

"She's so tiny…" Keith's voice faded as worry creased his brow – like there was no way she was big enough to survive until she woke up again and he could feed her. Lance curled his arm around Keith's shoulders and pulled him into his chest, kissing his temple.

"She's also part you, which means she's pretty much invincible. She'll be okay." He kissed the dark locks again. "Have you thought about what to name her?" His thumb stroked the crest of Keith's shoulder. Keith leaned against him tiredly, a contemplative sigh accompanying the shift.

"Not really," he admitted, gazing down at the infant cradled against his chest. This morning he'd woken up in nauseating pain, and now he held a new world of responsibilities barely the length of his forearm. The silence continued. Lance shifted and hugged him a little tighter, nervous.

"Keith… How do you feel about this?" His heart seized as the words left his lips; there were any number of reasons that Keith appeared head over heels for her now, but Lance worried what might happen if and when that euphoria of new parenthood washed away. They had never discussed children. Keith had never alluded to wanting any; and unless he said so, Lance had vowed to keep his desires to himself. And now by a twist of fate Keith held their natural daughter in his unprepared arms.

Lance wondered if Keith had heard him. Questioned his own judgment, if this had been the right moment to ask.

"I'm scared," Keith said at last. And why wouldn't he be? Lance felt terrified, but he had less at stake than Keith and could only imagine the melange of thoughts fighting for dominance in his head. "With everything… There's no way I could be a good parent, and I always knew there was too much at risk if I tried, and… When they told me I would probably never get pregnant, I was _relieved_." He swallowed thickly, body starting to tremble; Lance whispered Spanish endearments to reassure him. "But now, I… Now she's right here in front of me, and…" His voice shook, hoarse. "And I – _we_ – made her, in spite of everything, and. And I know beyond a doubt that I can't ever let her go." Keith lifted the tiny baby, touching their brows. " _I_ _**love** _ _her_."

He sniffled. Lance rubbed his arm again, letting Keith come to grips with the intensity of his emotions. He personally wanted to jump up and dance around the room, but Keith didn't handle himself like that. Years ago he had dismissed every possibility of becoming a parent, and the enormity of his situation multiplied itself a hundred-fold for him only knowing about his child's existence since that afternoon.

"Are you happy?" Lance asked softly. Keith gazed at the little bundle in his arms, and Lance watched Keith. His dark eyes were moist, glowing with complete adoration – the same as when Lance had proposed.

"Yeah," he murmured, smile broad. Affection bloomed in Lance's chest and he couldn't suppress an elated giggle, reaching to tuck a loose fold of the blankie under their daughter's chin and _definitely_ not doing so as an excuse to stroke her soft little cheek.

"I just…" Keith looked embarrassed. "I've only ever thought about boys' names."

Understanding, Lance kissed his face, tasting the salt of a fresh tear track. "Some boys' names are really cute for girls. Like Devin, and Mason, and Angel--"

"We are _not_ naming her Angel," Keith butted in. Lance snorted.

"It's only a suggestion. So, what do you think?"

Keith thought for a moment, considering their daughter's features more closely. The sort of person he hoped she would be. And he didn't need to say it, but Lance knew he worried whether he might choose something she would grow to hate. He didn't know Keith's deadname; he had never once asked, and Keith had never seen fit to tell him, said he couldn't stand hearing it.

"Adrian," he finally said, half-questioning, like he was testing the sound of it against her image. Lance felt a little golden flutter in his chest at the name and the new quietness he sensed in Keith told him they'd found the one.

"...Can her middle name be more feminine?" Lance asked. After a moment, Keith nodded. "Adrian Rose," he breathed, tracing a fingertip down the side of her pudgy cheek. "For my _abuela_."

"Yeah," Keith said, the warmth in his voice overwhelming, "I like that." He turned into Lance's kiss, tears trailing down his face in earnest as he realized once again how incredibly _lucky_ he was. Another tired sigh left his lips when they broke apart, and all Keith wanted to do was sleep at Lance's side, but he also needed to keep watch over their baby.

Lance smiled sympathetically, pecking his brow and already reaching for little Adrian. "Get some rest, _Papi_ ," he crooned, "I'll watch her."

Keith blinked owlishly up at him, already fading onto his side. "Aren't you the dad?"

It was Lance's turn to blink back. "Aren't you also the dad?" He blushed – they'd never discussed what Keith would be after Keith shut down all conversation about having kids forever, and in the moment he'd just assumed-- "What _do_ you want her to call you?"

Keith stared up at him for another moment, hand curled in front of his chest. Lined up with his faded surgical scars, the ghosts of one of his most jarring reminders that his body had not matched who he was. His eyes dropped. "I kind of…" his fist tightened in the sheets, "I want her to have both. A mom and a dad."

"Okay," Lance said, quietly encouraging his thoughts; since his father died, every foster placement put Keith with an adult woman and an adult man, although whether either or both really satisfied the mother/father dynamic had been an often shitty luck of the draw. Keith chewed on his lip now, eyes searching the folds of the sheet in front of him as if they might reveal the correct choice.

"I don't know if I can be a good mother, but… I want to try."

Lance took his clenched hand, coaxing the tight fingers to open up and relax around his, lacing them together. "You'd be a great mom, if that's what you want to be for her. You'd also be a great dad. Whatever you want, Keith."

Tears studded Keith's lashline and he looked up again with a watery smile. "I wanna be her mom," he said, voice trembling but determined. His cheeks flushed bright red, and Lance knew they'd made the right call. He leaned down and kissed Keith's forehead again, lingering for a second to infuse all of his love into it.

"Then get some rest, Mama. I'll wake you up in a few hours." The mattress groaned as Lance stood with remarkable grace, Adrian sound asleep in the crook of his arm and bottle balanced in the other. Keith reached his fingers toward them as Lance walked to the door, and just before he turned the light out Lance looked back, Adrian snug against his chest. "Sleep well, baby," he called softly, leaving the door open after the room fell into comforting darkness, his silhouette framed in golden light from the hallway the last thing Keith noticed before his eyes dropped closed and he fell sound asleep; one hand still outstretched, the other touching the tiny cursive _L_ on the chain around his neck. And in his sleep, he smiled.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Funnily enough, he named the baby "Keith."
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
